


The Natural Order

by Harmonyhhr



Category: Ghost (Swedish Band)
Genre: Church-y Stuff, Dark Humor, Death, Human Sacrifice, This will not end happily, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-24 07:32:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9711203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harmonyhhr/pseuds/Harmonyhhr
Summary: Papa Emeritus III has requested a new manager for Ghost.Woe unto the poor sap sent to fill those shoes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Right off the bat I have to extend credit to necessary-glitter (http://necessary-glitter.tumblr.com/) for coming up with the idea of a band manager "who didn't sign up for this satanic bullshit". After many conversations about what sorts of shenanigans such a guy would run into, I ended up with the beginning of this fic.  
> I'm taking it down a slightly different path though, and if I do this right it will be gratuitously violent and dark. Hopefully no one at work will notice me checking out the book on gunshot wounds...
> 
> Also, those of you on tumblr will know where "Grandpa" comes from X)

Arthur stood near the airport baggage claim, tapping his foot impatiently while incessantly checking his pocket watch. His time was important; he was important. That was his new mantra for the week: I am important and I matter to those in my life. Considering he’d given so much of his life to his job, the only real people who believed he mattered were his dotty sister and aging mother in Nowhere-sville, USA. Thanks to his hard work and decent successes with pushing small bands to stardom he was able to give them a comfortable life outside of the trailer park where he’d grown up. It was the only reason, he suspected, they bothered to care about him at all but it wasn’t as if he was pining for company anyways. Solitary life suited him just fine.

That’s what he told himself every time he looked in the mirror and saw his softening middle and rapidly receding hairline. He repeated it after any date where he stuttered too much or bored his companion into fleeing because he couldn’t think of anything interesting to talk about. He learned his lesson early on when mentioning the acts he managed – it still surprised him how many groupies successfully disguised their obsession until he trusted them enough to introduce them to band members. Growing up as rough as he did, he probably should have been suspicious the second a gorgeous twenty-something showed interest in a bookish man pushing forty (who was pretty average on good day).

Arthur sighed. His newest assignment was supposed to send a car to pick him up as soon as his flight landed, but he saw no hint of a driver who might be there for him. He wasn’t rocked by the revelation, seeing as how his new charges didn’t look like terribly responsible people. They were by far the most “out there” band he’d ever been tasked to manage and he was willing to bet a years salary his bosses were hoping to foist them off on a bigger label sooner rather than later. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure how a group like Ghost ever came to sign with an agency who specialized in promoting pop/alt music. He’d heard the lead singer, Papa-something-or-other, was a progressive kind of guy, but was he progressive enough to give up the Satantic schtick? Because that’s exactly what Arthur was going to suggest once he met the man.

Of course, he’d need a ride first. It had been ages since he last traveled through the airport in Stockholm but he finally managed to make his way to the outside pick up area. Perhaps this was where his car was to meet him? When making arrangements with their lawyer Arthur tried to insist he could find his own way to Ritual House, the supposed home of Papa, his Nameless Ghouls, and various members of their “Church”. His offer had been politely declined and an invitation to stay with the Clergy for a few weeks had been extended in its place. It was an odd way to begin his relationship with his latest employer but he assumed they would give up the charade once he was ensconced in a local hotel, probably somewhere close to the studio used for local recording.

“Mr. Anderson?” A voice broke through his daydreaming and he shook off the usual flash of annoyance that came from hearing his name. Going through school as little Artie Anderson had been a nightmare, but after the release of _The Matrix_   his last name projected memories of being bullied like a movie on Hugo Weaving’s giant forehead.

Turning, he found a wizened creature tottering toward him. Fear for the old mans balance had him reaching out to grip the sleeve of his heavy tweed jacket as a precaution in case the cane he held in his shaking grip happened to go flying.

His chivalry earned him a sharp rap on the knuckles with said cane and he immediately let go of the feisty devil’s arm with a shout. “Hey!” He massaged his hand to ease the pain away quickly.

“No touching! Damn Americans.” Though the words were said with a growl, Arthur was caught off guard by how young the man sounded – at least three or four decades younger than he looked.

“Sorry, sir. I thought you loo- wait, how did you know I’m American?”

The man let out a mocking laugh and replied, “I’m here to pick you up, dunce.” He gestured to Arthur’s suitcase with his free hand. “That all your shit?”

Well.

He nodded and nearly grabbed the cranky geezer again when he picked up the suitcase. It left him terribly unbalanced but Arthur figured the man wouldn’t appreciate his interference a second time. He was more worried this ancient turtle had been sent to drive him someplace. Drive! It wasn’t as if Arthur had big plans for the rest of his life but letting a strange old coot send him careening straight to his grave in a fiery explosion of metal and fuel did NOT intrigue him in the slightest.

Arthur lost himself in his thoughts, furiously trying to concoct a way out of his predicament, and failed to notice just how far they had walked away from the lanes meant for idling cars. He realized there were actually no cars anywhere in the vicinity.

“Excuse me, sir. Whe-“

“Call me Grandpa.” Another laugh, this one full of some inside joke no one was around to get.

“Uh…okay…Grandpa.” God give him strength. “Have you forgotten where you left the car?”

Grandpa grumbled beneath his breath but still loud enough for Arthur to hear. “Satan _damn_ all these Americans. Touchy and insolent.” A little louder he said, “I know where we’re going. Now shut up before I bash your head in with my cane and bury you in that empty field.”

Arthur was the first to admit he could be rather sensitive over silly things on occasion but he was fairly certain his inner outrage at Grandpa’s words was not overreacting this time. Sadly, he knew he lacked the spine to stand up to someone forty years his senior who had the bone density of a dollar store Halloween skeleton.  Falling silent, he followed obediently while continuing to search for the transportation Grandpa claimed to know the location of. They ended up in the empty lot that had almost become his final resting place but instead of getting murdered, Arthur spied a black carriage situated on the side of the road leading out of the airport. Surely that could not be….

But it was.

Grandpa threw Arthur’s suitcase carelessly in the rear boot and effortlessly vaulted up into the drivers seat. Twisting around he gestured impatiently for his passenger to get in. Arthur gaped around his driver at the four gleaming black horses hitched to the front, eyes darting between them and the ornate fixtures adorning the carriage itself. It was large and unabashedly ostentatious, looking like something the black sheep of the Royal Family might have used back in the day. An irritated grunt had him hurrying for the door and clamoring inside with all the grace of a drunk turkey. Arthur thought carriages like these had some sort of footstool attachment but he wasn’t about to request help from Grandpa with a task he figured the old man would find beneath him.

He barely shut the door when the carriage lurched forward, leaving Arthur grateful the passenger seating was fully enclosed from the elements. The seats themselves were rather uncomfortable and the unsteadiness of the vehicle left him slightly motion sick but he did believe it a better alternative to letting Grandpa drive a car. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and attempted to will away his nausea.

_There you stood, that’ll teach ya_

_To look so good and feel so right_

_Let me tell you ‘bout the girl I met last night_

Arthur lurched up from his slumped position, smacking his head against the low roof above him. Music?  His eyes roamed the cabin but found no devices resembling speakers. Pushing aside the curtains to his right revealed nothing unusual except for a window. It looked large enough to fit his head through and upon finding the sliding latch he pushed his face out into fresh air. From his vantage point he could barely see Grandpa but he could definitely hear him singing along to Survivor, the music piped in from somewhere unknown still. Arthur chuckled to himself as he brought his head back inside; he shouldn’t be so surprised to find Gramps had a pretty decent voice!

Arthur rested his head on the side wall and once again allowed his eyes to close. They were on a deserted side road and he hoped they would reach town soon enough. He then allowed the familiar sounds of Kiss to soothe him to sleep.

His attempted slumber was interrupted for a second time a few hours later. The blaring of horns interplayed with Kenny Loggins’ “Danger Zone”, cutting through his blissfully dreamless state and Arthur pulled the curtains back from the window, regretting his action almost instantly.

Whizzing past his window were dozens of cars. He slammed the window open and only succeeded in terrifying himself more when he discovered they were now on some kind of multi-lane highway filled with traffic. Cars coming up behind the slow moving carriage too quickly were forced to brake hard and swerve into the lanes next to them. Grandpa was the recipient of many rude hand gestures in a very short period of time.

“Old man! Hey! Grandpa!” Arthur screamed to be heard over the furious rush of vehicles. Grandpa didn’t turn to look at him but instead waved his hand, acknowledging he’d heard Arthur’s pleas but had no patience for him. It only succeeded in irritating Arthur more.

“Pull over, damn you!” He forced himself to sound angry, rather than horrified he was going to die at any second. “You have to get us off this road!”

Arthur continued shouting variations of this sentiment until Grandpa became so annoyed he jerked on the reins and guided the horses to the shoulder. The music cut out and all was silent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise after this chapter I won't clog up the Ao3 feed with two fics at one time. I just had to get this one out :) Thanks to all of you for indulging my experiment - it won't be the best thing I ever write but hopefully it's a little entertaining!

Arthur cautiously opened the door, unable to gauge the distance between the carriage and the cars zooming past. Once he saw they were indeed in a safe enough area, he pushed his way out from the passenger compartment. His knees were wobbly after watching Grandpa cut across several lanes of traffic without bothering to check if the coast was clear and he moved slowly to the drivers perch, where Grandpa was glaring down at him with a mixture of impatience and loathing.

"Just once I wish your company would send someone with a damned spine. I am sick to death of you whining, _sniveling_ children showing up on our doorstep with nothing to offer."

If Arthur's hairline hadn't receded so far his eyebrows would have disappeared into the shaggy bangs he used to sport when he was younger. The venom in the old man's voice was almost tangible. Straightening his shoulders, he repeated his mantra in his head to bolster his courage.

"If you don't like the way my company has represented the band then Papa Emeritus III is more than welcome to cancel the contract." He drew in a breath. "Now I want to know why we're on the middle of a highway in a horse drawn carriage – surely the band isn't _that_ dedicated to their image?" He was proud his voice didn't shake (not even a little) as he responded to Grandpa's rudeness. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.

Grandpa's eyes grew darker and more menacing as Arthur spoke. With near superhuman speed and agility he barreled down from his seat and landed in Arthur's personal space, their faces now centimeters apart. Arthur hastened to move away from the crazy Clergy member but Grandpa held fast to his tie, not caring that his grip was tightening the fabric on the new manager's throat like a noose. Arthur clawed at the restriction on his airway to no avail; as old as Grandpa appeared he was far stronger than anyone his age had a right to be. For a guy who sang along to classic rock songs, he wasn't very mellow.

"You might get away with that sort of talk with my youngest brother but do not ever mistake me for him if you wish to continue your existence on this planet." Brother? What brother? Arthur had no idea what the loony coot was talking about! But he wasn't given a chance to speak. "My only hope is you display such attitude to Emeritus the Second and he buries you in the castle graveyard with the rest of the trash he and I are forced to clean up."

Such words left Arthur terrified (not to mention still choking), which was probably why he failed to notice Grandpa's cane leave the ground and come whistling toward his head.

Papa Emeritus I watched the pathetic excuse of a man drop to ground after leaving a rather solid welt on his temple. Weak. They were always so weak. He dragged the unconscious loser by the collar of his coat and threw him unceremoniously back in the carriage.

* * *

The scent of expensive leather and the hum of an engine woke Arthur from a sea of pain. His head felt four sizes too big. Groaning, he attempted to sit up but his churning stomach forced him back down to the soft cushion beneath him. A cursory exploration with his hands concluded he was probably in the backseat of a car. After giving his nausea time to pass, he slowly opened his eyes to find the world shrouded in shadows.

It didn't make sense.

His flight was supposed to land early in the morning. The sun should have been high in the sky, blazing down through the car window on his face. So why was it dark outside? Lightning quick stabs of pain radiated across his skull just then and he probed his face with his fingers to find a knot the size of an egg near his left ear. His situation was rapidly transitioning from odd to flat out disturbing.

The crappy part was – he couldn’t figure out how he ended up in this predicament. The last thing he remembered was requesting a diet soda on his flight and then everything went blank. How could he have lost an entire day? Was he with the person the band was supposed to send for him? Had he been kidnapped?!

Arthur felt the car take a curve rather sharply and begin ascending, to where he did not know. Up and up they went for what felt like an eternity before the engine finally died and someone got out from behind the steering wheel.

The door next to his head popped open and he quickly shut his eyes again. He didn’t know what was going on – no need to let his captors know he was conscious. That’s usually when they start the torture. Arthur fought not to grunt in discomfort as strong hands maneuvered his body around so they could lift him out of the car, shifting him into a fireman’s hold. As if he didn’t feel vulnerable enough…

Gravel crunched under the feet of his human ride as they set off for their new destination. The uneven ground gave way to stone steps and Arthur became aware of the presence of others nearby.

“I take it you had trouble?” This voice was male and lightly-accented, most likely someone native to Sweden. 

His body was adjusted, the thin shoulders beneath him dipping momentarily as if they were strained. “Of course not, I’m just using him as a new weight set.” This voice belonged to the man who held him up. He felt like he had heard it before but Arthur’s head hurt too much to focus on figuring out where from.

A female voice came next, sounding much older than the two men but with enough authority to make him wince internally. “It would be the most normal action you’ve had with a dead body, Emeritus.”

“Jealous much? And he’s not dead, you hag. He just didn’t react very well to the carriage.”

The other man in their group grumbled in exasperation. “Papa, please tell me you did not subject him to that monstrosity. We’re supposed to be courting these people.”

The woman cut in. “Our Lord demands the third incarnation be successful. If Special Ghoul believes this is the way then we need to respect it. He and Emeritus the Third have seen better results than you ever did during your reign.”

The man holding Arthur began moving again, carelessly bouncing his head off one of the other speakers arms as he was squeezed between them. “Dearest Sister Imperator, does it ever get confusing for you to refer to us all as “Emeritus”?” Sister Imperator (now behind them) growled but did not respond. “Anyways, he’ll be fine. He deserved harsher punishment than a smack on the head but I restrained myself this time. Is it safe to assume his room is ready?”

The man known as Special Ghoul hummed in affirmation. “Yes. The Ghouls did a fine job gathering his things and bringing them here. I think this crop is finally learning their place in the Church.”

Arthur’s head was spinning from all the details he was subjected to. Judging from their conversation he must have been picked up by the band, which was better than being kidnapped, but why did someone hit him?

He wanted to concentrate on the vexing problem but was summarily jostled uncomfortably up several flights of stairs. Special announced their arrival at the appropriate door hesitantly. "Uh, if he's so fragile do you think it's a good idea to place him...in here?" 

"I'm not carrying him all over the fucking castle, Special!" Emeritus shuffled around as though he meant to enter the room but the Sister cleared her throat loudly to stop him. 

“Wait just a second.” There was a rustle of cloth and the soft “snick” of something being uncapped. Arthur felt a sharp pinch in his neck and gasped from the intrusive sensation.

“He’s been awake since you removed him from the car, Emeritus. If he can’t handle that ridiculous carriage then I certainly don’t want him blabbering Church business he doesn’t yet understand.”

Papa I chuckled darkly. “Do you always carry needles full of sedative hidden in the folds of that robe, Sister?”

Sister Imperator gave him a haughty look. “You’ve met the current Earth, have you not? I have to sedate him at least twice a wee-“

The rest of the discussion was lost on Arthur as the drugs moved swiftly through his system and he gave in to the darkness.

**

He woke the next morning to sunshine, inviting and bright. Today was the day he traveled to Sweden to meet the new band he was going to manage. Arthur smacked his alarm until it stopped blaring and looked around for his monogrammed bathrobe, a present from his mother. Of all the men she could have idolized, she had to have some crazy affinity for Hugh Hefner. Once he became old enough to see his mother for who she really was he stopped wondering why his father had walked out on their family when he was just a toddler.

He padded out to his modest living space, an open concept kitchen/living combo that sported worn carpet and pieces of furniture with more than a few miles on them. Arthur didn’t mind a drab existence, a thought he let rattle around his head as he started the coffee machine. He was doing better than he ever imagined (considering how he lived as child). He didn’t need the apartment of a billionaire; he only wanted enough space to feel like he had a proper home. He knew some of his neighbors, frequented enough stores in the area to be greeted by name when he passed by a shop, and one train ride would get him to work in twenty minutes.

Arthur poured coffee in to this favorite mug, a yellow abomination with chipped paint and its fair share of cracks shored up by heavy amounts of glue. He walked over to the curtains hiding two windows and threw them back with a flourish.

Instead of a view of the apartment building across the street, he was met with solid brick.

Stumbling away from the wall, he heard his front doorknob rattle and gawked like a fool as it turned and a familiar, ancient looking man entered. What the - ?

“Glad to see you’re up already. For some godawful reason Sister Imperator is a morning person and wants to meet with you. Nevermind we work for Lucifer and are usually up all hours of the night.” The speaker moved to the coffeepot and drank straight from the glass carafe.

“Blech. You Americans have no clue what real coffee is, do you?” He tottered back the door and held it open with his cane. “Did you go deaf in the night, boy? The Sister wants to talk.”

Doing his best to compose himself, Arthur set his mug down on the coffee table and tightened the belt on his robe. "Erm, excuse me? I-I think you have the wrong apartment." He needed this man out of his place so he could call the super and find out where his windows went.

His trespasser rubbed a gloved hand over his eyes. "I knew the shit Sister gave you was going to be too strong. Probably meant for elephants or something, the crazy old bat."

Instead of leaving like he had asked, the man shut the door and moved closer to where Arthur stood near his threadbare couch. He muttered to himself the entire time.

"Hmmm, let me take a look at you here..."

"Yes, it was the left side wasn't it..."

"Right side it is this time..."

Arthur was about to confront his intruder once more when the old man finally directed his ramblings at him. "You don't look so good, son. Is that blood on your leg?"

Arthur jumped and looked down, pulling his robe up so he could search for signs of an injury.

Papa I rolled his eyes at how easy it was to fool such an imbecile. Once again Arthur did not see Papa's cane coming for his temple (the right side this time). Down, down he fell to the stiff couch cushions where he landed face first.

Hearing the door open behind him, Papa I turned to find Special standing in the entryway.

"Is he ready to go?"

"We might have had another mishap."

"Might have? Mishap?"

Papa I stepped aside so the Ghoul could see the...mishap on the couch. 

"Are you actively trying to give the man brain damage?" Special hurried across the room to check their unconscious guest. "If you keep hitting him he won't remember the job he came here for."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've neglected this one for a while, but with all the drama happening a particularly violent fic didn't seem to be in good taste. You know? But I've had some recent inspiration and thought it might be time to bring it back. 
> 
> I decided I want this fic to be fairly short (so no major plot so to speak) and starting next chapter - everyone is gonna die. The new ghouls will make an appearance, as will Priest.

Special sat in Sister Imperator’s office, facing the women herself as she glared at him from behind her enormous mahogany desk. His foot jiggled with impatience as the silence stretched between them.

Finally, he could stand it no longer. “Out with it, Amelia. You’re going to kill me with that stare.”

Her eyes glittered dangerously but Special wasn’t intimidated; he knew the good Sister better than anyone else in the Church. She was firm and had the potential to be unfair, but he was currently enjoying her good graces. He knew she was merely upset over the American they had stashed away in a guest bedroom.

“What are we going to do about him? I can’t have Emeritus the First running around cracking the man over the head with that damned cane every five seconds.” She growled impatiently.

“Clearly he’s not mentally strong enough to accept the Clergy right away. We’ll play it cool from now on and slowly introduce him to our way of life. I take full responsibility for having his things brought here right away.” Special stood.  “I was wrong to assume someone from a pop label would be liberal enough to be amused by such manipulation.” There was no reason for him to sit through a chastisement so he turned on his heel and moved toward the hallway.

“Special.” The tone of Imperators voice stopped him before he could leave. “He’ll stay in the guest bedroom for now, and have access to a spare office for his work. You will keep him away from the Papas, especially Emeritus the Third.”

Special nodded and would have resumed walking but Imperator continued, “And Special? If you ever refer to me by my birth name here again, I’ll chain you in the dungeons myself. You might share my bed but don’t forget your place.”

* * *

 

Arthur woke to a light tapping on his door. He glanced around groggily, struggling to remember where he was. Nothing in the dark room looked familiar but the bags he had packed for his flight to Sweden sat next to the bedside table.

Another knock sounded, accompanied by a voice this time. “Mr. Anderson? Are you awake, sir?”

He groaned as he sat up; it felt as though he’d been hit by a Mack truck. Ensuring his t-shirt and shorts were appropriate enough to greet someone in, he stumbled to the door and cracked it open.

A young lady in a long-sleeve shirt and long skirt stood before him, looking nervous. She flashed a bright, fake smile at him as he peered down at her and took it upon herself to push the door open further so she could see all of him.

“I’m Sister Lillian. Sister Imperator ordered me to escort you to the dining area for breakfast this morning. Did you sleep well?” Her voice was clear and soothing, assuaging his clouded brain. Her accent wasn’t Swedish however, which made him wonder just how far-reaching the Clergy truly was. Did his new project truly create their own religion?

Locating the light switch next to the doorframe, he moved away from the threshold to allow her entrance to the room. “So I’m in Sweden then?”

His question must have surprised her, for she laughed merrily after he asked. “The Ghouls must have really worn you out last night. You were a bit…drunk when they brought you back with them.”

“Drunk?” Arthur didn’t get drunk. Alcohol wasn’t entirely pleasant to him (which he’d been told was the point) but he still stayed away from it as much as possible.

“You don’t remember?” Arthur shook his head no and she chortled some more. “I should figure not. The Ghouls met you at the airport yesterday – Papa is busy preparing to film the latest music video, you see, and he sent the boys in his stead. From what I understand, you were shown quite the wild time before you arrived here.”

He considered the girl’s words seriously and decided it didn’t seem entirely implausible. He wouldn’t have wanted to offend such new clients and would have agreed to go out with them, to see the city if nothing else. How he lost an entire day was a bit of a mystery though.

Arthur realized he had been lost in his own thoughts and Sister Lillian was staring patiently at him. “Pardon me, Sister Lillian. If you give me a moment to get dressed, I’ll be glad to follow you to breakfast.”

He dressed quickly, donning a casual striped shirt and a pair of black pants that were one step away from being formal. Looking professional and still being comfortable was quickly becoming priority for him as his age increased.

He exited his room and followed Sister Lillian down a long hallway. He’d assumed Ritual House would be just that – a house, but as he looked around he realized they were in something akin to a castle. The floors and walls were aged stone, a drafty breeze wafting through the air to rustle Sister Lillian’s long brown hair.

There were several doors between his room and what appeared to be the main staircase. “Are these rooms all occupied?” He wondered aloud.

“Not on this floor. This is for guests only, and for right now you are our only guest.” Sister Lillian sounded more comfortable speaking about the Clergy than she did speaking directly to him. “The top floor is reserved for the current Papa, and the floor beneath him for Papa I, II, and Sister Imperator. Below them are the Nameless Ghouls and the male members of the Clergy. Myself and the other Sisters reside on the 2nd floor. The main floor is made up of the kitchen, dining area, a parlor, library, a gathering space for Clergy members, and a small ritual space for minor ceremonies. The main ceremony space is in the church on the grounds.”

Arthur gaped open-mouthed at Sister Lillian’s back. “You have an actual church? Like, a building?”

He could feel her amusement as she replied, “Of course. Certainly you must have done your homework before choosing to represent Papa and the Ghouls, yes?”

Guilt flashed across his features and he was glad she was facing away from him. “Um, I did, but I never imagined the church thing was real. I thought it was for the fans – to create an image.”

They were descending the stairs at a rapid pace but Sister Lillian slowed so he could draw even with her. “I think it began that way but the fans wanted more, so they created this place and stayed. I’m not supposed to speak to Papa I so I’m not sure exactly how it all came to be. I’ve only been here a year and it feels as though I know nothing sometimes.” Her smile was wistful as they continued on their way.

“Do people leave?” Arthur thought his question was innocent enough so he was not prepared by the fear in Sister Lillian’s eyes. A moment later her smile returned and he was almost tempted to believe he imagined it.

Instead of answering his question however, she stopped them once they reached the second floor landing. “Do you mind if I run to my room? In my haste to make sure you weren’t wanting for something I forgot my grucifix, and Sister Imperator will have my head if I’m seen without it.”

He nodded and she hurried off down the hall. Idly he glanced around at the tapestries adorning the walls and was trying to decipher if the one nearby was a goat-headed demon having intercourse with a chicken or an a woman when there was a great commotion from the floor below.

Glancing over the side, Arthur found Papa Emeritus III wearing a hole in the rug at the foot of stairs, his arms flailing about as though he were either excited or upset. He figured it would be best to let the man sort himself out and moved away as not to be seen when Papa III looked up and noticed him watching.

“Ah, AH! Yes, yes – good. You’re finally awake!” Papa III rushed up the stairs to meet his quarry and vigorously shook Arthur’s hand before he could do anything. “You must come with me! We have the dungeons prepared – you must see. The label will be quite pleased with this I think.” Papa’s accent was heavy, possibly Italian, and the man spoke so fast it made him difficult to understand.

Arthur pulled back a bit, stopping Papa’s tirade midstream. “Sister Lillian says I’m to go to breakfast first. I’m waiting for her here actually.”

Papa waved a dismissive hand in his face. “No, no no no. That will never do. We have it all ready. The Clergy is already in place. This is going to be spectacular!”

The man was tiny but he clamped down on Arthur’s arm in a way that told him “no” would not be taken for an answer.

He found himself being half dragged away from his waiting spot, down the stairs and pushed to an open door around the corner. Arthur had to hold on to the banister of the staircase he found through that doorway because Papa was nearly shoving him in his haste. He kept frantically muttering things in Italian as they went and nearly flew by to show Arthur where he wanted him.

They found themselves in an extremely large open area, one lit up like a Christmas tree. Various instruments of torture lined the walls, hung off the walls, or were displayed proudly in the middle of the room like they were normal pieces of furniture. Portable lights, like those used for filming, were strategically placed around the room – some shining out toward the door, the others directed at the two young women hanging from chains against the far wall. Arthur noticed cameras positioned much like the lights as well. People in states of dress similar to Sister Lillian were milling about, chattering and laughing like they weren’t in a creepy torture dungeon where two naked women were dangling from chains while everyone was being filmed.

Papa III seemingly forgot about his guest and rushed toward the naked women on display. Arthur could see him speaking to someone and realized the Nameless Ghouls were in attendance too, probably a part of the video like they had been for _Square Hammer_. He moved through the crowd to get a better view and hoped he wasn't screwing up any part of the filming. This must have been arranged before his label took over and probably cost a fortune to bring in so much equipment. At least by using Clergy members as extras they could save some money but he imagined it was still an impossibly huge hassle.

Arthur cut his way through the crowd until a solid wall of backsides blocked his progress. He could see well enough and waited with everyone else to find out what would happen. The Nameless Ghoul Papa had been speaking with handed him a large ornamental-looking knife, the signal for Papa to begin whatever they had planned.

“Ladies and Gentlemen – I have gathered you all here today to witness what happens when shame and displeasure is brought upon the Clergy.” His voice was booming around the room, enrapturing those who stood in his presence. “We try, _oh how we try_ , to only take those who are willing to serve our Lord Lucifer with utter devotion, **BUT** sometimes a few bad eggs sneak their way in. _Wolves!_  They are wolves in sheep’s clothing!”

Everyone began booing at Papa’s words and Arthur found himself jostled as Sisters and Brothers started to move restlessly.

“We cannot allow such scum in our ranks. It tarnishes the image my brothers worked so hard to build. This one,” He pointed at the woman on the right, who was watching Papa with what could only be described as a lustful expression, “has on many occasion professed only to worship me. She claims to care not for our teachings, our way of life – not even our music or the Ghouls!”

More boos sounded, sprinkled with angry shouts in a multitude of languages.

“You say, “Papa, how could you know such things?” and I shall show you! See how she begs.”

As though Papa flipped a switch in the girl, she began moaning and panting like an animal in heat, her hips mimicking sexual intercourse. Her throaty whines became words and she did indeed beg.

“Papa mmmmmhmmm. Oh, Papa please. I need you. I ache for you. Don’t turn me away – all I want is for you to fuck me. _Please!_ We’re perfect together. You’ll see, you’ll all see!”

She became frenzied as the crowd tried to drown her out. “You’re all just jealous because Papa fucked me, that I’m the chosen one. I AM SUPPOSED TO BIRTH THE PRIME MOVER! When you’re all dead and gone I’ll still be here, beloved by all – the most important Ghost fan ev-“

But her maniacal ravings were cut short by the sharp blade of the knife Papa held. It slashed across her throat in a move Arthur did not see coming, a waterfall of crimson cascading from her neck to slide over her breasts and down her stomach.

The crowd surrounding the scene went wild with joy.


	4. Chapter 4

By sheer force of will Arthur stopped himself from lunging forward to help the deranged creature. He knew it was all an act but it was eerily realistic in a way that made his empty stomach churn. As a fan of horror films a bit of gore was fine, but he wasn't terribly keen on witnessing such things up close and personal.

The girl chained next to Papa's first 'victim' thrashed ferociously, attracting the Anti-Pope's attention and that of a Nameless Ghoul standing just out of the spotlights. Arthur couldn’t yet tell the difference between them but this Ghoul was a bigger fellow, not quite the tallest but definitely larger than the others, with silver rings covering his fingers. He stepped into the light once Papa turned his back, his fists spasming open and closed as if they had a mind of their own. The crowd was still riding the high of their first kill and he noticed more than a few clergy members shedding clothing and attaching themselves to each other in a rather...intimate fashion.

Now Arthur wanted to stop the filming for an entirely different reason. He was 99.9% certain his supervisors would not approve of a showcased orgy popping up on television networks and screens around the world (okay, mostly the U.S.). Boobs and a flash of dick from their other videos were tame flaunts of authority but this? This would never see the light of day. It would most assuredly have to be heavily edited.

As he thought through the logistics of damage control, Arthur realized he had ignored the show on the 'stage', as it were. Something big must have happened because Papa now had his shiny knife pressed against the woman's stomach and the Nameless Ghoul with the rings was on his knees in front of her, his hands fisted in the robes of his leader.

"Please, Papa. Lucifer wouldn't want this" The Ghoul almost sounded as if he were sobbing beneath his mask. Ghost certainly had an array of talent on hand to utilize; it made Arthur eager to sit down with them and work on a plan for the future. The ideas were endless with a group willing to do so much to ensure their success.

Arthur missed the rest of the Ghoul's pleas but snapped back to reality when Papa began screaming in earnest at his bandmate.

" ** _Betrayal! You too have brought shame and betrayal to the family, Omega!_** Is it not enough I allowed you time away from the stage for your own foolish pursuits? Oh ho ho, and when I return I find you cavorting with this ** _vile, untested OUTSIDER_**."

Breathing ragged from exertion, he slashed at the prisoner's pale skin with each word of his sentence. By the time he was finished speaking all flesh between the tops of her breasts to the full flesh of her thighs was marred with seething red cuts.

Arthur again felt a twinge of unease about the whole thing but assumed it was simply because of the woman's convincing cries of pain as the knife tore at her. Papa was no slouch in the acting department either, his voice breaking under the strain of his feigned outrage.

"I warned you that Sister Imperator and I would no longer allow such disobedience to go unp-punished. I-I took you in when you had nothing, no one, and g-gave you a purpose." The black paint around his eyes began to trickle over the white cheeks of the mask, his harsh sobs mixing with that of the Ghoul Omega and the woman he was supposedly pleading for.

"This village trash is not one of us, **_will never_** be one of us. You choose her? You dare prostrate yourself in front of me not out of remorse for your actions, but to save a woman who is so far beneath the Church _we wouldn't use her for a common sacrifice?!_ " Papa's chest heaved as though he were in actual pain over the situation and Arthur very nearly clapped (not that he would have been noticed for it – the orgy was in full swing at this point).

"I told you, Omega. I told you time and again what the consequences would be if this vermin crossed our grounds once more but you had to – to deceive us over and over." Papa turned to the audience and spoke to them in manner a comedian would when entertaining fans. "I'd call her a cheap slut but really, it would be an insult to sluts everywhere. No, I cannot abide by this any longer."

Papa raised the knife quicker than anticipated and plunged it straight through the girl's belly, ripping an agonized scream from her throat. The scream transformed to babbling when he wrenched the blade free, and though she was supposed to be on death's doorstep, she found the strength to taunt Papa. "You're no leader, Papa Emeritus. Y-y-y-ou've brainwashed these men into believing you're a-a-a god. I would n-n-never give myself up for this place."

Her words were all Papa needed to fly off the ledge of sanity. Omega sensed this and launched forward to protect his "love" but was nowhere near fast enough to stop the knife from carving a grotesque smile horizontally across the girl's abdomen. Shock stunned her pretty features, her mouth curving into a classic 'o' of surprise, and everyone stopped their amorous activities to watch her insides spill forth to plop wetly on the floor at her feet.

To add insult to injury, Papa reached a gloved hand through the gaping wound, twisting and tearing until there was nothing left. Arthur knew people could possibly survive being disemboweled but he hoped for the girls sake she was dead, or at least he did until he remembered it was all for show. What a show!

It was far from over though. Omega bellowed like an irate bull and twisted so he wouldn't get a face full of internal organs. He threw himself mightily against Papa and brought the man to the ground beneath him, pummeling his beloved idol with fists and elbows. The mad scramble between the two landed them in a pile of entrails, but their dark clothing kept the scene from being as visually stunning as it could have been. Both men were now howling obscenities at one another and a few of the remaining Nameless Ghouls hurried forward in an effort to break them apart.

Papa's small stature must have taught him to be inhumanly fast at a young age, because as the Ghouls rallied around their scuffling buddies, the thundering report of a gunshot rent the sex-filled air. In the blink of an eye Omega stopped struggling, slumping heavily on Papa still underneath him.

No one breathed.

No one moved.

The eyes of every single Clergy member were trained on the tangle of two bodies in front of them, breaths coming in rapid gasps or not at all.

Papa wriggled his way out from the cage that was Omega's body and began brushing off the bits of flesh stuck to his chasuble. He eventually noticed his audience had gone silent and looked around the room, his posture daring anyone to challenge him.

Pointing to another Ghoul, he barked, "Water! You're the new Aether Ghoul." Swiveling around, his eyes lit upon a small woman with fluffy blonde hair and he shouted at her too. "You! You're capable of playing the bass, correct?"

The woman was so tiny it seemed as though a stiff breeze would blow her away forever, but she squared her shoulders instantly and replied in the affirmative.

Papa nodded approvingly. "Good, you're the new Water Ghoul."

Arthur expected another cheer to erupt from the crowd but instead tension and fear raced around the space; it made the room feel as though it were the size of jail cell.

He was knocked loose from the beginnings of a panic attack by a very firm hand gripping his arm for the second time that morning.

It was Sister Lillian.

Her face was pale, bloodless almost, and her hand trembled noticeably as she used him as an anchor to steady herself. Faking another, more tremulous smile she said, "I seem to have lost you earlier. You...you really shouldn't have come. Sister Imperator is going to be livid."

She tugged on his sleeve and he followed her back upstairs. "Why would this Imperator care that Papa took me to see the music video? Excellent sound system, by the way. That was quite the realistic gunshot."

Her smile transformed from brittle and false to genuine in a heartbeat. Once more she didn't answer his question but countered with one of her own.

"You're probably eager for your promised breakfast, aren't you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might have guessed, some of this is a parody of a few of the interesting characters I've seen throughout the Ghost fandom (and a lot of other fandoms too). I know it's totally over the top dramatic but it's supposed to be! So it's okay to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt a great need to update this story so no one thinks I've got an abandoned work floating around. Tell that Devil is my priority but a random flash of inspiration hit for this next chapter and I found myself writing it instead. My supposed to be fast and short story is not so fast and short anymore but after this I'll give it the gas on the shock factor. More death, yay!
> 
> Also it should be clear I don't know how record labels work or churches for that matter - all of this stuff I'm just pulling out of thin air. Don't judge me :P

Sister Lillian followed Arthur around for the rest of the day, much to his consternation. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the company in such a strange place but he could think of no good reason for her presence other than to herd him. After breakfast she spent the remainder of the morning showing him the first floor communal spaces for clergy members and then escorted him around the grounds when he declared a need for fresh air.  

“So you don’t get lost – it’s a rather large parcel of land we have here.” She said with her customary placid smile. Arthur bit back an annoyed retort; it wasn’t her fault she was stuck babysitting him. Perhaps Sister Imperator would realize he was capable of moving about on his own once she met with him.  

He asked Lillian as much while they traversed the gardens.  

“I believe with what happened this morning Imperator will be rather busy for the rest of the day. You needn’t worry about her quite yet.”  

“Busy doing what? Does she help with the editing process?” He chuckled slightly at the thought. Lillian made Imperator sound so severe and commanding that picturing a wizened old woman hunkered down in front of a computer with an oversized pair of headphones strapped to her head was quite the mental picture.  

Lillian rewarded him with a small laugh. “Something like that.” They left the gardens behind and continued along a wide stone path. He could see the steeple of the church as they walked. “It doesn’t matter in the end since you’ll be staying with us for a while.”  

This startled Arthur, so much so he stopped in the middle of the path to stare at his keeper. “It was my understanding I would only be here a few days. That’s certainly enough time to meet everyone and decide the best way to maximize the band’s potential.”  

“I, um…” She trailed off, her front teeth poking out to worry at her bottom lip. The same kind of fear he saw in her this morning at the shoot was back in her eyes as she searched for something to say. Clearly the girl was very afraid but of what, he couldn’t begin to guess. "I-I am wildly overstepping my b-boundaries within the Clergy by saying this but I know Imperator wants you to s-s-stay a bit longer than originally planned."  

"I don't quite see the reason. There's not much I can do from here - I have a team back home, you know? We work together on several projects at once; I can't drop everything just for Ghost." Arthur knew he should be saying this to someone like Sister Imperator instead of a member who didn't hold much sway in the Clergy but he was becoming agitated. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t remember his arrival to this place, the story he was told not sounding much like one that held a lot of truth. It could also have been because he felt so off balance here and he was beginning to regret taking these people on as clients. They acted more like a cult than a band (there may have been a market for that sort of thing but it wasn't something he wanted to invest his time in).  

Lillian nodded hastily, as though she could sense his rising anger. "I-I know that, Mr. Anderson. I know. It's just...just..." Her words came out in a rush. "It's just that the idea of bringing attention to the Church this way is so new and no one is quite sure where they stand anymore. The elder Papas worry about their younger brother and what he might to do to their legacy. Sister Imperator believed the music to be a stupid idea from the beginning but her objections were overruled by the rest of the administration." 

She broke off her frantic speech with a sharp intake of breath. "Everything is riding on this partnership with your firm, Mr. Anderson." Tears glimmered in her large, doe-like eyes. "Please say you'll stay and help. Please?"  

The white knight within Arthur stirred at the sight of her tears. Here was a lovely young lady pleading with him for help, to save something greater than himself just as he'd always pictured when he was younger and full of dreams. He'd never imagined he'd be helping a band of Satanists make a go of their rock 'n roll career but it could have been worse. They weren't mobsters or thugs, or even politicians; only average devil worshippers trying to carve out their space in the world.  

And maybe Sister Lillian's tears were causing him to romanticize the whole ordeal in his head, but Arthur knew he was lost. He reached out and took the her delicate hand between his own two and smiled. "I don't think it's really as dire you as you make it out to be but I'll stay. Only for an extra week though; I have other things to handle at home." It was a lie to be sure but it gave him a firm leave date and an excuse to have on hand in case anyone questioned why he couldn't stay longer. He patted Lillian’s hand the way a father might to soothe his child and said, "Now that we have that settled – why don't you show me around the church?" He gestured toward the spire peeking over the hill.  

Lillian stared up at him for a moment longer than necessary, then turned back around to continue leading them down the path. She kept her hand in his and pulled him along behind her, leaving Arthur confused about...a lot of things.  

They crested the small hill and she tugged at his hand until he stood beside her. The church was visible now and was quite the spectacle; he’d been picturing a simple American white church because that was what he’d grown up around but the black stone monstrosity sitting before him would certainly be torn down if it had been built in his hometown. It was unbearably ugly: sitting low to the ground, squat and ungainly, it had a vaguely square base and a standard steeple that would have been pleasant to look at had the lines of the building been consistent. The walls themselves gave the illusion of rolling like a wave, leaving the corners where the walls met uneven. 

The longer Arthur stared at it the more his vision seemed to blur, making nausea roll through his gut. He forced himself to look away before he emptied his breakfast on the plain shoes of his company but not before he realized the entire building was solid black, the kind of black that made a person feel as though they were being sucked in to an endless void. Even the windows were opaque, which meant the only splash of color came from the bell sitting in the tower – a deep, rich blood red.  

Sister Lillian sighed wistfully as she stared at her house of worship. He could see just by looking at her that the church filled most of her heart. Arthur held her hand more tightly and began drawing her forward, toward the ornate wrought iron fence surrounding the immediate area in front of and around the building.  

"Come on then, let's go inside. If it's half as dramatic as it looks I'm in for a treat." But Lillian resisted his pull and stayed on the stones. 

"Oh no, we can't go inside." She noticed his confused expression and explained, "Only Clergy members can attend ceremonies or step foot inside sacred spaces. I would be in terrible trouble if I allowed you to go in. It'd be a better idea if we we-" A muffled shout drowned out her last few words.  

Arthur whipped his head around and let go of Lillian's hand, dashing across the grass to peer through the gaps in the fence. From this angle he could now see the tombstones that littered the ground around the building, and the four Nameless Ghouls idling among them. All four were staring down at something.  

Arthur turned back to Lillian and pointed to the group standing just beyond their reach. "What're they doing?"  

Her face went white as a sheet when she saw who he was gesturing to and she rushed to stand between him and the fence, her small hands shoving at his chest to force him to back away.  

"The Ghouls! They must be preparing for a ritual – we should not be here. This is not for you to see." He allowed her to push him a few feet before stopping again, movement catching his attention. One of the Ghouls clambered up out of the ground, a long object slung over his shoulder. He threw the object to the tallest Ghoul and indicated he should take over. The Ghoul holding what Arthur could now tell was a shovel shrugged and dropped into the ground while the other brushed dirt from his clothing. They were digging a hole.  

"What're they digging? It's not a grave is it?" Alarm colored Arthur's words and he compelled his breathing to slow. It was a graveyard; graves being dug was not an uncommon occurrence. Still, it unsettled him deeply but he decided Sister Lillian didn't need to know that.  

She had finally managed to shove him back across the lawn to the stones of the walkway and linked her arm through his rather forcefully, charging away from the church as though it were on fire. He didn't have much of a choice to follow or not and he didn't begin to make a fuss until the only visible part of the church was the steeple once more.  

"Okay, okay! Lillian, stop! I didn't see anything!" He resisted against her and managed to get her to slow down to a brisk walk instead of a fleeing gallop. "How do you all ever recruit anyone if you won't let them see what you do?"  

Lillian was wheezing slightly as she turned to face him, her face flushed from exertion. "Other tests of devotion must be taken before anyone may see how we worship. Are there not Christian religions that require the same?"  

"Not that many, not enough to justify it for a new religion."  

She stopped abruptly enough to wrench his shoulder painfully when he didn't stop with her. "What we do, who we are is  _not_  new! We have been around longer and will outlast all the other pretenders when this world self-destructs." Lillian snarled the last few words so fiercely Arthur found himself both a little afraid and slightly turned on. Passionate women always excited him, even if they often never took notice of his average appearance and personality. He simply didn't have the same amount of energy on hand to expend the way they did but he greatly admired them for it.  

"I didn't mean it as an insult, I'm sorry. I only...well, what were they burying back there?" Arthur hoped to soften her ire by distracting her.  

It worked. Visibly relaxing, Lillian started walking again (though this time she refrained from touching him, leaving Arthur disappointed). "Most likely it was an animal. It's nothing to be upset over."  

"An animal?" 

Sister Lillian giggled sweetly, as though he were an ignorant child. "Satanists." She waffled her hands back and forth. "Sacrifices. You get the picture?" 

Ah. 

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly before asking her where they were heading.  

"To the lake. It's really the most peaceful spot on the whole estate, or at least it is when the swans don't chase you!" She left him sputtering after her, sufficiently distracted himself enough to forget the size of the hole the Ghouls had dug was far larger than necessary for any sacrificial animal.  

* * *

It was late.  

Sister Lillian finally dropped Arthur off at his room around 10pm. She'd stayed with him all through lunch, dinner, and endless introductions to clergy members he couldn’t care less about meeting. He'd rather be seeing Sister Imperator and Papa Emeritus, even the Ghouls! over people who couldn't assist him in his job.  

There was no use of him staying in bed when he was restless so Arthur swung his legs over the mattress and stood, crossing over to his window. It dawned on him from this height and this angle he should be able to see directly down into the grounds of the church; maybe he could see if the grave was still open.  

Flinging back the heavy drapes revealed the grave was indeed still open, and several people encircled it. Though it was difficult to see from this height, Arthur would have sworn they were naked, their arms outstretched to the sky. Two large fires burned to the left and right of the circle but one was exponentially larger, with some kind of platform built just out of the reach of the flames. He couldn't see Papa Emeritus III anywhere among the crowd but all five Nameless Ghouls came in to view as the seconds passed, carrying a large coffin. 

Well, all the Ghouls except for the new female. Her small stature made it impossible for her to reach a part of the coffin since the rest were so much taller (though the second smallest Ghoul was clearly struggling). They climbed a set of stairs on the outside of the platform until they could rest of the coffin on a beam directly above the fire. Arthur waited with bated breath to see what they would do next. 

The weight in the coffin made their progress slow as each one gripped a bottom edge of the wood and tilted it toward the flames. Their stances shifted as something moved inside the box and the lid had just begun to flip open when - 

A series of rapid knocks sounded on Arthur's door. 

He jumped away from the window before he could see what was giving the Ghouls so much grief and his door opened a moment later, further drawing his attention from the scene outside.  

Though she was only really visible in silhouette form, he could see it was Sister Lillian poking her head through the opening. 

"Arthur?" Her voice was soft, as though testing to see if he were still awake. He'd finally convinced her at dinner to stop calling him 'Mr. Anderson'.  

"Yes?" His voice was higher than normal from the tension of the ceremony below. Lillian jumped a little, apparently not expecting him to be standing across the room, and she pushed the door open until it revealed her fully.  

She was carrying a cup in her hands but that wasn't what held his gaze. Her nightgown was a gauzy white strip of nothing that barely reached the tops of her thighs and cut low enough at the neckline that he didn't need to imagine what her breasts might look like: they were outlined just fine. A long robe covered her arms and flowed down to her ankles but it was made of the same fine white material and with the hall light hitting her body...the robe did little to conceal the fact that she was wore nothing beneath her flimsy sleepwear.  

Arthur barely suppressed a groan of heartfelt frustration and he balled his fists up in the material of his shorts. He had to, not to keep from touching her but to shift the fabric away from his groin. His shorts were beginning to constrict in uncomfortable ways.  

He couldn't see her smile but he could hear it when Lillian spoke. "Oh! I had hoped you would be asleep...but, I thought if you weren't you...might...need this?" Her sentence stuttered at the end as if she had forgotten the excuse she was to use to come see him. She placed the cup on the table next to the bed and stood uncertainly next to his rumpled sheets.  

Not entirely sure where this was heading, Arthur managed to begin thinking with his brain and jerked his head toward the window. "I was trying but something weird is going on outside."  

When he mentioned the ground beyond his window Lillian transformed from uncertain to wanton in an instant. The unhelpful robe slid off her shoulders to land on his mattress and she sauntered toward him, causing him to take a hesitant step back. The uniforms she wore during normal hours did a marvelous job at hiding how slender and supple her body was, he noticed, as she reached past him to the curtains he had drawn away from the window.  

Yanking them shut, she leaned into him and glanced coyly up into his eyes from beneath her lashes. Her hands began to roam freely, causing goosebumps to wave across his skin.  

"I think we have more pressing matters to attend to rather than whatever nonsense they're doing at the church." One of her questing hands pressed firmly against the front of his shorts to caress his hard length, something he could no longer hide even if he wanted to. Her other hand slid up the back of his neck and tugged him down so her lips could press against his. 

Arthur was no saint. He pushed his hips against her hand and released the groan he'd held in earlier. Lillian's tongue swept past his now open lips and her grip on him became more urgent as she pressed closer until his back hit the wall. It had been - well he couldn't remember the last time his luck had been this good. A girlish peel of delighted laughter rang from Sister Lillian's throat when she broke their kiss and it was that sound that shook Arthur. Hard. He brought his hands up to her shoulders and thrust her back away from him.  

What was he doing?! This girl standing before him was warm and willing but she was half his age! He scrubbed a hand over his face. What if she were even younger than that? He may not have been a saint but he'd be damned if these people would turn him into a pedophile.  

He shouldn't even be entertaining such thoughts while in the company of these lunatics!  

"Arthur, is something wrong?" Lillian brought him out of his inner rantings by placing her cool hands on his back. He reached over to the cup she'd set down and chugged the contents in one gulp, a terrible mistake as they were still steaming hot but the pain torched his raging hormones so he could think more clearly.  

"I-I'm sorry. I can't...do this." It was the right thing to do but he still had to push the words out past gritted teeth.  

Lillian patted him on the back softly and retrieved her robe from the bed, tying up the opening so it covered her legs and chest (but barely). "That's fine. I thought you might like some tea and company but if not, I'll leave." She didn't sound angry, only slightly amused.  

"You're not upset?" He wondered aloud before she could leave through the still open door. 

"Of course not. Here I am taught no means no. Sex is important to us but we're allowed to express ourselves more freely, so not every encounter we have with one another is heavily endowed with meaning." She glanced cheekily at his crotch and with a wink disappeared into the hall. 

A wave of fatigue hit Arthur like a ton of bricks and he sat down heavily upon the bed. Everything grew fuzzy but it wasn't alarming; it only made him want to bury his face in the fluffy pillow beneath his head and sleep. Tomorrow he would worry about...what was it he need to worry about again?

 


End file.
